


Upholding Tradition

by jugandbettsdetectiveagency



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: And the kilt pics, F/M, Hand Jobs, I Blame Tumblr, In Public
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-19 23:37:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11324079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jugandbettsdetectiveagency/pseuds/jugandbettsdetectiveagency
Summary: Betty decides to remind Jughead why it's such a good idea to traditionally not wear anything under a kilt.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This sin isn't my fault we were surprised with kilt pictures, and the good - or rather very bad - people of tumblr requested, and who am I to deny them anything? Part two has been requested also so that will probably come soon.

“God bless the Andrews’ Scottish heritage,” Veronica sighed dreamily, cupping her chin in her hand as she gazed out across the marquis, dark eyes resting longingly on her husband - as of twenty minutes ago - Archie. Betty threw her friend a knowing look, dipping her chin as a chuckle slipped from her lips.

“You mean God bless Nana Andrews and her insistence that the men in the wedding party wear traditional Scottish dress?” she teased, quirking an eyebrow. Veronica was enjoying the view far too much to blush. She’d never been easily shamed when it came to gratuitous ogling anyway.

“Yes, exactly that,” she replied with a grin. Betty shook her head, laughing at the bride and her newfound appreciation for kilts. Veronica turned to Betty pointedly, lifting a perfectly manicured finger in her direction accusingly. “Don’t act like you’re not just as grateful.”

Betty couldn’t help the shaky exhale that left her mouth as she turned to look at where the groomsmen were congregated around the buffet table. Oh, there was no denying it; Betty Cooper would consider herself forever indebted to Nana Andrews’ wedding contributions.

Her eyes instantly found Jughead among the group, his dark curls falling sexily over his forehead, teeth glinting as he grinned at something Archie had said. Veronica had been surprisingly lenient with many of the details for the wedding party, but what she had drawn the line at was Jughead wearing his tattered old beanie as he escorted her maid of honour down the isle. Jughead hadn’t protested too much; it had been a few years since he’d been so reliant on the knitted headwear for comfort, a fact that made a familiar warmth spread through Betty’s chest.

The top button of Jughead’s shirt had been undone, tie loosened, and crisp sleeves rolled up to his elbows to accommodate the stuffy summer heat that had settled beneath the tent. Betty felt herself flush, for reasons other than the seasonably hot weather altogether, as her gaze continued down further. She took in the pleated tartan, stopping just above where the thick woollen knee socks began.

“My husband is all my teenage Outlander fantasies come true,” Veronica’s words filtered in through Betty’s Jughead-in-formal-wear induced haze. She offered her best friend an offhand laugh, still utterly distracted by the pleasant view. Jughead had grown up well, filled out in all the right places, muscles straining so wonderfully against his dress shirt as he clapped a congratulatory hand on Archie’s shoulder. Betty hadn’t been aware that she’d shared in Veronica’s highlander fantasies, but her betraying body was signalling otherwise.

Jughead caught her eye, sending a soft, timid smile her way over the crowds and suddenly she was pulled back from the edge of imaginations of rough, calloused hands and strong, Scottish winds as she lay beneath her boyfriend on a woollen blanket by a loch…

It was a shame, she thought with a bite to her lip, returning his smile. She rather liked that image.

Jughead excused himself from the group, sauntering over to where Betty was seated, cupping her cheek as he leant down to press his lips to hers sweetly. She hummed into the kiss, taking the opportunity run her fingers lightly through his hair.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look?” he asked when they parted, lips still brushing hers as he spoke. She grinned, bopping his nose affectionately with her own.

“You might have mentioned it once or twice, yeah,” she murmured, sneaking in another kiss. He hummed against her lips, moving to sit in the now unoccupied seat next to her, Veronica having hurried off to attend to more of her duties as bride.

“Just checking.” Betty leant towards him, forearm resting on his shoulder as she played with the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” Betty told him, voice lowering as she flicked her eyes down his form once more, noting the way his legs were comfortably spread as he sat down. Jughead laughed, shaking his head at his forced attire.

“I still can’t believe I agreed to wear this thing, it’s completely off brand,” he joked, picking up the heavy fabric between his fingers. Jughead looked up when Betty didn’t respond, noticing for the first time the way her cheeks were lightly flushed, pupils dilated, and chest rising and falling a tad faster than usual as she looked him up and down. A smirk crept its way onto his features.

“Betts?” he asked slowly, ducking his head to meet her darkened, unfocused eyes. She snapped them to his own, the deep blue beginning to swirl with mischief.

“Hmm?” she hummed airily.

“Do you… Is this kilt turning you on?” Jughead asked with unconcealed glee in his tone, lowering his voice to a gravelly whisper as Betty’s face turned an entirely new shade of red. Bingo, Jughead thought triumphantly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, refusing to meet his eye - or look anywhere in his direction for that matter. Jughead laughed, throwing his head back in disbelief.

“Betty Cooper has a thing for traditional Scottish dress, who knew?” he taunted, unable to keep the smug expression off his face. He saw the exact moment Betty’s demeanour shifted, his frame stiffening in apprehension. She turned her head towards him with an exaggerated slowness, looking at him from beneath thick, sooty lashes. Jughead wasn’t sure when he became the prey but he certainty was now.

“Did you know,” Betty began, leaning even closer towards him until her lips were against his ear, hand resting on his exposed knee in a gesture that was anything but innocent. Jughead gulped, Betty watching the movement of his Adam’s apple hungrily, his senses completely overwhelmed by her. “That traditionally Scottish men wore nothing underneath their kilts,” she whispered, hand inching further up his thigh until the tips of her fingers were beneath the tartan, rubbing infuriating circles on his heated skin. Jughead flushed, shirt beginning to stick to his back.

“I had heard that,” he stammered, trying to keep his expression as neutral as possible as he felt a familiar twitch in his groin, suddenly thankful for the cover of the long white cloth spilling over the edges of the table in front of them. Betty’s teeth grazed his earlobe, soothing the bite with a flick of her tongue as Jughead’s breath caught in his throat.

“So, did you uphold tradition? I know it’s very important to the Andrew’s family that everything be authentic,” she said in mock seriousness. Jughead bit back a deep groan.

“Never thought I’d have someone trying to put their hand up my skirt,” Jughead tried to quip, but the breathiness of his tone made the humour fall short. Betty smiled sweetly, contrasting the hunger in her eyes.

“Juggie,” she whispered, fingers climbing higher still.

“Afraid not,” he answered, hands clutching at the edges of his chair. “Worried there might be a breeze, and I wanted Nana Andrews to make it through the entire ceremony,” he joked again, earning a light giggle from his girlfriend this time.

Her hand was so close to where he needed her, almost fully hard at this point, before all of a sudden it was gone. He blinked rapidly, lips parted in disappointment as she settled back in her chair.

“That’s a shame,” she said lightly, fingers tapping idly against the rim of her glass. He’s dumbfound for a moment, persistent pressure between his legs not subsiding any.

“What?” he asked lamely. She shrugged casually, peeking at him devilishly from the corner of her eyes.

“It would have been such easy access,” she purred, Jughead momentarily forgetting how to breathe. Betty took in his choked expression, enjoying herself far too much to stop now. And from the slight bulge she could see beneath his kilt as she chanced a look southwards, so was Jughead. “There’s still time to take them off,” she suggested.

Jughead’s cheeks blazed at her implication, but his eyes darted between the table they’re at and the bathrooms that aren’t that far away, nonetheless. Damn, he was actually considering it. He blamed Veronica’s choice of bridesmaids dress, the blue going perfectly with Betty’s skin tone, the tight fabric hugging her every curve until very little was left to the imagination. And the fact that he already knew what lay beneath the dress, well… His legs tensed, ready to get up from his seat.

“You could get me to do anything, Betts,” he mumbled reluctantly in her ear as he rose from his chair, seeing her excited shiver before he’s heading to the bathroom.

It’s a unsettling feeling to walk through a crowded room with an familiar breeze whipping between your legs, Jughead thought, hoping his stride wasn’t too noticeably different as he wandered back towards their table. Everything felt a little too ‘free’ for his liking. However, he had a feeling he wouldn’t mind for much longer.

“This is so ridic- ugh.” His protests were cut short by the feeling of her hand on him beneath the fabric of his kilt; no preamble, no build up, just immediate contact. She felt him twitch beneath her touch as the tip of her index finger rubbed slow circles over his head, feeling the build up of wetness leaking there. Jughead’s breath shallowed considerably as he tried to keep in his moans.

Betty shifted closer to him, hooking her free arm around his neck in a gesture of cute, innocent affection - everything her other hand was currently not.

“Betty,” he whined when her teasing was becoming too much to handle, eyes darting nervously around the crowd as he lifted his hips in a subtle attempt to her her to grip his erection.

She finally conceded, moving her fist in short little jerks against his skin before taking his entire length in, her movements getting faster with each passing second. Jughead tried desperately to stay still, to keep his eyes from fluttering shut, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to her little game.

Betty twisted her wrist expertly around the head as she pumped her hand faster, thumb pressing delicately against his slit. It elicited a rumbling groan from deep within Jughead’s chest before he could stop it, coughing quickly in case anyone heard and earning himself an amused giggle from the temptress beside him.

Jughead knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Between Betty’s persistent hand, how turned on he’d been just by looking at her, and the way she was panting quietly in his ear, clearly just as aroused as he was by the exposed nature of the situation, he was going to last far less time than he hoped he was capable of.

“Betts,” he cautioned, tendons in his neck straining against the tanned skin. Her breath hitched.

“Are you close?” she whispered, voice nothing more than a breath.

“Fuck, yes. You have to… I’m gonna…” he stammered, panic rising as he realised he was about to come all over his rented garment.

Betty caught on quickly, hand disappearing at the last second as she grabbed a clean napkin from the table just as the tightened coil in Jughead’s abdomen snapped, pressure releasing as he came into the tissues.

He sat in stunned silence for a while, trying to get his ragged breathing back to normal as he watched Betty tuck the crumpled napkin into her purse to dispose of later. She turned back to him, biting her lip against a wide, pleased grin.

“You seem pretty satisfied with yourself,” he managed to accuse sometime later, forehead still slick with perspiration. She laughed, combing the curls back from his face.

“You look pretty satisfied, too,” she murmured. Jughead shook his head, dipping forwards for a light kiss. “Hey, where did you leave your boxers?” Betty asked suddenly, realising he hadn’t emerged with them.

“Yeah, I should go and retrieve those before anyone finds them,” Jughead grinned, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Betty tucked her head into the crook of his neck, hiding her smile. Neither of them moved, enjoying the aftermath of their secret deed.

“Hey, Juggie,” Betty said sometime later, not moving her head from its spot by his ear.

“Yeah, Betts?”

“This dress… it’s so tight. I’m not wearing any underwear,” she breathed. Jughead groaned, stomach clenching all over again. She would be the death of him, and he didn’t mind one bit.


	2. Chapter 2

Betty had had complete faith in Veronica's choice when it came to bridesmaids dresses. Even despite her penchant for fashion, Betty knew her best friend wouldn't allow her to be seen in some hideously unflattering ensemble just for the sake of making herself look better by comparison, unlike some domineering bridezillas - Veronica knew she was going to look stunning regardless. 

But right now, however, Veronica's choice of dress for her was causing her more than a little discomfort. 

"B, it's perfect. Definitely the style for you," Veronica had gushed, clasping her hands together excitedly as Betty twirled before her. The dress was stunning, even the blonde had to admit. The royal blue popped perfectly against her skin, the tight fabric accentuating her trim waist before flowing over her round curves. Betty dropped her shoulders and stood a little taller as she gazed upon her reflection, the sight of herself in the floor length dress filling her with an unusual confidence. And she always knew how Jughead loved her in blue...

Now, though, that floor length sweep of fabric that fell down her frame like a waterfall was nothing but a hindrance. 

Betty shifted in her seat, glad that the summer sun had dipped beneath the horizon, leaving only the string lights and lanterns that Veronica had meticulously placed to illuminate the wedding reception. Otherwise, the deep red flush that was on her cheeks and spreading rapidly across her collarbones would have been all too obvious. 

Jughead sat in his seat next to her, facing away as he glanced about the room in quiet contentment. Betty narrowed her eyes at him, fingers clutching at the edge of the table cloth. Even with his face averted she could still make out the curve of a smug smile planted firmly on his features. She wanted to wipe it off, and she could think of more than a few ways she'd like to do it - none of them involving her annoying dress.

Betty had loved the thrill of touching him beneath the fabric of his kilt, out in the open, tucked away in their corner. No one had even come close to guessing that she had made Jughead come completely undone under her hands, powerless to stop her even if he had wanted her to. He definitely hadn't, that much she would always be sure of. Then she'd enjoyed telling him she wanted him to keep his underwear off for the rest of the reception, watching his blue eyes bulge as she informed him that it would just be more convenient that way. Jughead couldn't resist Betty in a playful mood, happily (though still somewhat hesitantly) complying with her wishes by shoving the wadded up fabric into her purse alongside the evidence of their previous misdeeds. 

"Just don't offer anyone a mint," Jughead had quipped with a dark smirk, eyes flicking to her clutch with a mischievous glint. She bit her lip against a smile, leaning in to press a promising kiss to his lips. 

Betty wasn't sure when it happened - perhaps his newfound 'freedom' had upped his confidence - but she appeared to have lost all the power in their little tryst. Jughead's hand was currently stroking dizzying lengths up and down the inside of her thigh, over the fabric of her dress beneath the table. He stopped at the juncture where leg met groin, trailing back down to her knee before repeating again, and again. 

It had started with a dance. His strong hands pressed deliciously on her lower back, the action bringing her flush against his chest until Betty could feel every hard plane of his body awaiting her touch later. She rest her head on his broad shoulder, angling her face to leave a gentle kiss against his pulse. 

"Juggie," she whined as he slipped a thigh between her legs, hoping no one was paying them enough attention this many glasses of champagne into the evening to notice the way her hips involuntarily bucked against his. His chuckled quietly, swaying them back and forth still. 

"I really do love this dress," he murmured lowly into her ear, a wandering hand slipping from her waist to the side of her ass, squeezing briefly. Betty hummed into his warm skin, more than a little intoxicated herself, from the musky scent rising from his skin just as much as the alcohol she'd consumed. Everything about today was lowering her inhibitions and she couldn't find it within herself to care. 

"I thought you would," she replied, rolling her hips subtly, seeking some kind of pressure against the ache between her legs. 

"Shame it's so long, though. It kind of... gets in the way," he whispered suggestively, pinching some of the offending fabric between his fingers and playing with the soft satin, dragging it over her sensitive skin. Betty moaned softly, hands clutching at his shirt as her knees weakened from only the slightest of touches. 

He pulled her over to their seats when a faster song began to play, friends and relatives flocking to the makeshift dance floor to embarrass themselves to no end while Jughead looked on with a mixture of disgust and amusement. Betty had been watching Archie attempt to get Veronica to join him in some ridiculous dance move straight out of the dads only handbook, letting out a trilling laugh when her friend actually consented, hearts almost visible in Veronica's eyes. She jumped when she felt a warm palm on her leg, Jughead beginning his torturous teasing. 

"Is this payback?" Betty asked weakly, sometime later, when his movements progressed no further. She could feel the dampness of her core, unable to soak into the fabric of the underwear she had forgone, wetting the inside of her thighs. She clenched her legs together, attempting to stop his torment and find some much needed friction all at once. 

"Believe me, if I could get my hands on you," he breathed, finally turning to look her directly in the eye, pupils swallowed by lust, "I would." Betty let out a shaky breath, leaning over to whisper into his ear, capturing the lobe gently between her teeth, revelling in the way his breathing stuttered with the action. 

"I could pull it up," she suggested, her tone, while seemingly innocent, holding very despicable connotations. Jughead cleared the thickness from his throat before speaking. 

"As much as I love you, Betts, that might involve a little too much exhibition for a family friendly function," he joked with a devilish smirk, thinking back with a shiver to their earlier antics. If anyone were suddenly to walk up to them with Betty's dress hitched around her hips there'd be no explaining away that one. 

Betty dropped her forehead to his shoulder, groaningly softly. She was far too tipsy and worked up and frustrated for this to not go anywhere. 

"It's getting kind of late," she said straightening up suddenly and fixing him with an intense gaze. Jughead's stomach tightened. "We should probably be heading home." It wasn't a suggestion. 

The goodbyes took far too long for Betty's liking. Too many hugs and 'thank you's and promises to keep in touch more often. And the knowing smile Veronica had shot her way upon their final hug had Betty blushing more intensely than before. She grabbed Jughead's hand and dragged him from the tent before Veronica could follow up her look with a comment.

"Betty, what-" Jughead's question was cut short when Betty veered off from the direction of the parking lot, shoving him beneath the shadows of one of the towering maple trees nearby. 

Her mouth attacked his with no further warning, tongue coming out quickly to lick at the seam of his lips, begging for access. He gladly granted it, tongue dipping inside her mouth to wrestle unrelentingly with her own. She whimpered into the kiss, his hands fisting on her hips as she tugged forcefully on his hair. 

"I want you, Juggie," she breathed when they parted for air. She leant back in for a few fervid pecks, unable to keep any distance between them for long. A groan reverberated through his chest at the unbridled need in her voice, the shadow of her swollen mouth just visible in the twilight, breath fanning over his spit-slick lips. 

She squealed as he spun them round suddenly, pressing her against the rough bark and replacing his thigh between hers. Betty moaned at the harsh scratch of the wood, the pressure of his strong leg against her centre, the feeling of his entire body trapping her beneath his. 

"Betty..." he murmured, eyes flicking apprehensively between her dress and over her shoulder in the direction of the reception, not all that far away. 

"Just rip it," she hurried out, clutching at his biceps, chest heaving still from their make out. Jughead's eyes followed the movement for a beat too long before his mind caught up with her words. 

"Fuck," he mumbled, hips lifting to press into hers. The bite of the rough wool of his kilt against his free erection pulled another moan from his chest. His hands hesitated, clutching the fabric. 

"Seriously, no one wears their bridesmaids dress twice. Just rip it," she said again, eyes burning. 

Jughead took the thin satin between his fists and yanked harshly, the flimsy dress giving way beneath his hands as the righthand seam split from hem to hip. Betty gasped, more heat pooling in the pit of her stomach at the arbitrary masculine display of strength. 

He wasted no further time slipping his hand beneath the tear, sinking his fingers into her heat easily. Betty keened beneath him, bucking into his hand as his began his exploratory ministrations. 

"God, Betty," he groaned as she dripped around his fingers, his lips trailing hot kisses along her jaw, down the slope of her neck, before sealing over her fluttering pulse and sucking. His thumb found her bundle of nerves and began to circle slowly, the whine she let out causing his member to twitch impatiently. 

"I need you inside of me," she breathed, and he was never good at denying her anything. Her hips followed his retreating fingers as he pulled them out, spinning her round just as suddenly, pulling her hips back toward him. Betty's hands came to rest against the bark, her ass grinding into his groin unashamedly. 

Jughead flipped his kilt out of the way, pulling her newly split dress to the side before pushing into her wet heat. They groaned in unison, both stilling for a moment to take in the unbeatable feeling of being connected to one another. 

Slowly Jughead began to rock into her, Betty pushing back to meet his every thrust. He picked up his speed, the only sound in the night that of their laboured breathing, the quiet slap of skin against skin, and the distant raucous of the party.

Jughead knew when she was getting close, feeling her begin to flutter around him. His hand slipped back beneath her dress, once again finding home at the apex of her thighs to coax her to release. Betty moaned desperately, walls clenching as she tipped over the edge, pulling Jughead with her, biting into the curve of her shoulder to muffle his cries of pleasure.

Jughead nuzzled into the crook of her neck as they came down from their high, placing soft kisses to any and all bare skin he could reach. The corners of Betty's lips tilted in a sated smile, turning in his embrace to settle contentedly into his chest. 

"So can we go home now?" Jughead asked, an amused lilt in his tone. Betty giggled, running a finger down his chest as she gazed up at him with hooded eyes. 

"Sure," she grinned, leaning in to barely brush her lips to his. He shook his head in slight disbelief at the angel in his arms, turning to lead them both towards their car.

"Jug, wait!" Her sudden demand stopped him in his tracks immediately. He raised his eyebrow at her in question. "I left my purse at our table," she said, letting out a laugh at his panicked expression. Jughead sighed, wondering how fast he could make it back to the reception on still unsteady legs.


End file.
